This Time
by TheArtOfDistance
Summary: Castle reflects on his relationship with Beckett. Companion piece to 'Love Is'. One shot. Caskett.


Disclaimer: Castle and its characters are not mine (unfortunately). If they were, I would be able to afford that adventure cruise to Antarctica that I've always wanted to take.

Naturally, he's loved women before.

It started with Jenni Tomas in tenth grade, and has never really stopped. Kyra, Meredith, Gina...he knows what it's like to be drawn to a woman physically and to yearn for her emotionally. He's always been looking for that little bit more, for a connection that _means _something, and, though he's never quite found it, he firmly believes that it exists.

Meanwhile, he's not lonely. Quite aside from the parade of women interested in flirting with a single millionaire with a certain sort of reputation, he has his family. He loves his mother and his daughter, in a deep and meaningful way that no other woman has ever come close to. They are _family_ and, for him, that means more than obligatory Christmas gifts and a few shared genes. Families stick together; they fight and love and laugh and back each other up. They provide a soft landing place when someone falls, and a hard push when one is needed. His family - these women who he loves more than life itself - is the centre around which he revolves, the impetus behind his success, and the single most likely cause of his eventual descent into insanity. He's a family man at heart, and he knows it.

Right now, he's standing in his kitchen, chopping carrots so that there will be dinner on the stove when Alexis gets home from band practice, and something in the refrigerator when his mother drifts dreamily back from her day at the new drama school. It's a familiar routine, and the rhythmic thud of the knife on the chopping board soothes him. It doesn't distract him, though, and he can't stop his mind from wandering to the place it's been spending more and more time these days.

Beckett.

He's never known a woman like her for refusing to fall into the neat categories his mind has devised. He aches for her physically like he's never ached for a woman before in his life, but if that was his only problem, it would be simple to fix. Sex is biological, and it's a drive that's easily satisfied. No, his problem is not his attraction to her. It's not even the fact that, shortly after realising he lusted for her, he realised that he _liked _her. Real friendship with a woman is a new thing for him, but he's enjoying it.

No, the thought that troubles him and catches him unawares at odd moments is the realisation that somehow Beckett's drifted into the space in his heart marked _family_. The moment that happened should have been memorable - it's never happened to him before, not even with Kyra or Meredith – but somehow it wasn't. He can't remember any specific time when he noticed her edging closer to that intimate territory he always thought was reserved for the parent-child pea-pod thing his mother talks about. It feels as though he woke up one morning and realised there was a squatter in his apartment who's been there for years without him ever realising - except, of course, that he feels not the slightest inclination to evict Beckett now that she's somehow become so important.

He dumps carrots - minced almost to paste - into the pot, and reaches for the potatoes. He doesn't mind this unexpected combination of longing and protectiveness that's come over him in regards to Beckett. It's a new sensation, and it promises a deeper, more lasting sexual connection than any he's ever known. He's perfectly happy to stand beside her, to have her back when she needs him, to argue with her and make up, to slog through the heartache of her mother's unsolved murder, and to do all the other things that come so naturally to them. He's surprised by his own feelings towards her, but not antagonistic towards them; he's pretty sure, in fact, that herein lies the key to that extra connection he's reached for so many times and never quite grasped.

Unfortunately, he can't test that theory, because Beckett's ignoring every hint he throws out. She's dating that goddamned doctor, and because she's different from all the other women, because she's _family_, he can't even be indignant. Beckett's happy, and he cares about her too much to interfere with a relationship that objectively has everything going for it. He can't rage and stomp and march off, issuing an ultimatum or vowing to leave, any more than he can push Alexis away because she's growing up and going to college, or kick his mother out because she's throwing away an incredibly generous legacy on a project that most likely will fizzle out just like the life coaching business did. All he can do is wait, and hope, and pray to passing leprechauns that one day he will be lucky enough to experience the strength and beauty he's sure they can find together given half a chance.

He's not literally without other choices, of course. He could hit the town, drink vodka, dance with someone interesting, embark on a little fling - or even a big one – and throw himself wholeheartedly into the project of relieving some of the sexual tension that's been building up lately. He wouldn't be doing anything illegal, or morally wrong, and logically there's nothing stopping him from indulging. Except, of course, that his disastrous second round with Gina taught him the impossibility of replacing part of his family. He can't adopt another daughter and pretend she's Alexis, and he can't be with another woman and pretend she's Beckett. He doesn't want to. So waiting is all that's left, and it's killing him slowly to be her buddy when he wants to be so much more.

He finishes cubing the potatoes, feeling his frustration ease a little each time the knife slams against the chopping board. He will wait, he tells himself, and at the same time he will get on with his life. He will write books, throw fundraisers, and play poker. He will be her friend, her partner, her plucky sidekick - her _family_, even if she doesn't realise it - and when the time is right, he will be ready. He won't push too hard, but nor will he let go until he's sure he's lost the battle. He's learned a few lessons these past three years, and, more than in any other relationship he's ever had, he's determined to get it right.

After all, this time, he's playing for keeps.


End file.
